Page 64 of Xander

“Maxwell!” Coach screamed again, probably about another massive fuckup on my end.

This time, I didn’t bother hiding my distraction when I found Jordan talking to the same administrative staff from earlier. Her eyes weren’t on me as I had politely requested but on the man giggling like a little girl at something she said.

What the hell?

As soon as practice ended, I skated toward them instead of heading to the locker room with the rest of the guys.

This is bullshit.

Every man who came across Jordan was enamored with her. Henry’s associates used to fall prey to her charms. The years in between hadn’t changed a thing. Everyone stared at her when we went to that country club for lunch. My teammates were just as affected, and the scumbag administrative assistant looked smitten.

They didn’t know her like I did or share our connection and inside jokes. Unlike them, I wouldn’t care if Jordan was fat, scarred, or deformed. I’d want her all the same. In fact, it may ease my mind if she gained weight or broke out in blemishes. Then some of this unwanted attention would lessen.

Perhaps I could inject lard into her meals.

Fuck.

I felt paranoid. Back in high school and during my freshmen year of college, I never worried about losing the few women I casually dated—if you could call it that. Then again, Jordan wasn’t just another girl.

She was my obsession, who happened to hold the title of the most beautiful woman on earth.

I was starting to panic that others might find out about it. I wanted to hide this precious gem because surely, if they knew, they’d want a piece of her, right? They’d line up and offer anything for her to pick them over me.

Why shouldn’t the most beautiful woman on earth have her pick?

Who else had perfectly proportionate features?

If men stared at her long enough, surely they’d figure it out. I had to divert their attention and distract them from looking at her. But how?

In a toxically ironic twist, I could almost—kind of—understand why Henry kept her locked up in the house and never gave anyone access to her. I mean, he gave me access, and look at what I did.

I stole her at the first opportunity.

What was to stop other men from doing the same?

I hopped over the railing and charged at the administrative assistant. “What the fuck is this?”

“Jesus.” Jordan jolted, holding a soda in her hands. “When did practice end?”

“If you had kept your eyes on me like I had asked, you would’ve known.” I threw my stick to the side and stepped between Jordan and the man.

She glanced unsurely between us. “Liam here brought me a soda because he thought I looked thirsty.”

I took the can out of her hands and chucked it at him. He caught it against his chest with a yelp. Jordan appeared mortified, and I had no idea what I planned to achieve except her attention was the only thing that could’ve made things better between us.

“Your soda isn’t what she’s thirsty for,” I informed him.

I glanced back to ensure the rest of the team had retreated to the locker room before gripping the nape of her neck and slamming my lips against hers. She was shocked and fisted my shirt for balance.

I was aware of the fucker watching us awkwardly and circled my arm around her waist to bring her closer. One hand rested on her ass, the other around her throat, while I devoured her mouth.

“Er… okay. You folks have a good day now.” He spoke from somewhere in the distance.

I didn’t let her respond to his last pathetic stab at vying for her attention and tightened my hold around her throat. The firm hold silently dared Jordan to break the kiss to bid him farewell. Any tighter, and I’d cut off her oxygen, but she got the message.

My fingers relaxed when he disappeared. Jordan gripped my hand to pry it off her throat, but I wasn’t ready to let go. I held her to my chest, letting her feel my hard muscles against her soft body.

“Do we have a problem?” I asked under my breath. “Is there a reason you were looking at other men after I explicitly told you not to?”